


So Into You

by rispacooper



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Costumes, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Glitter, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 03:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: Maybe this was how college parties were supposed to feel, all flashing, spinning pastel lights and music and alcohol humming in his blood. Kegsters were different, the team was always watching, judging or laughing or sending him to go watch over someone a lot less sober than he usually was.Not here. Here, Will licked rum and pink sugar from his lips and arched his back, his head tipped up to stare at the lights bouncing across the ceiling.





	So Into You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vashti_lives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vashti_lives/gifts).



> Completely imaginary version of a party, pretty much written just for the visuals. Happy birthday, Vashti-lives!
> 
> These are not my characters. They belong to Ngozi! :)

The dull thump of the beat mesmerized him, soothed and excited him as much as the soft, feminine voice above it. He didn’t know the words or the name—some pop confection Bitty or Rans might have worked out to together. But Will liked it. It was floaty, soaring and dirty and just loud enough to drown out everything else around him. 

Maybe this was how college parties were supposed to feel, all flashing, spinning pastel lights and music and alcohol humming in his blood. Kegsters were different, the team was always watching, judging or laughing or sending him to go watch over someone a lot less sober than he usually was. 

Not here. Here, Will licked rum and pink sugar from his lips and arched his back, his head tipped up to stare at the lights bouncing across the ceiling. 

“Fuck,” Nursey exhaled, rough-voiced and admiring, which was madness, or fantasy, or just something too hard to imagine in the frat atmosphere of the Haus.

Drama parties were different, Ford had promised. The other drama club members had too, thanking him for helping with the set, inviting him to their party, offering to dress him. Maybe… maybe some of them wanting to touch him. Will hadn’t thought it then, but he realized it now, a sharp, hungry sort of thought with Nursey’s mouth at his throat. Nursey kissed soft, hot, fleeting little kisses that weren’t enough but had Will trembling, waiting for what he shouldn’t have. 

Halloween was a joke at the Haus. Costumes for effect and laughter, worn on dares or to get pussy, or cock, or ass of any variety, if you were hot enough. Which Will wasn’t. That was the deep down truth of it, or what felt true, after two and half years of watching someone beautiful and always taking steps back when he wanted to rush forward. 

He angled a look down through the heavy, weight of his gilded, sparkling mask and shuddered at the press of big hands up his back, beneath Will’s borrowed wings, a delicate, fragile cage of wire and shimmering fabric. _Tulle_ , Will thought. _Gossamer_ , he thought a moment later, a word he would never have had a reason to use until tonight. 

Ridiculous—a joke on someone like him, bulky and huge and calloused. Not clumsy but hardly graceful. Will wasn’t like a fairy. He wasn’t shameless, like Holster, or gorgeous and soft, like Bitty, someone pretty enough to walk in a Pride parade in hardly anything but socks and a set of wings. 

These weren’t even the cheap kind made of plastic and painted feathers. They didn’t belong on Will’s sturdy shoulders. It didn’t matter how many freckles were buried beneath fine gold and pink glitter that had been painted on him by eager drama club boys. Wanting him. 

The scrape of Nursey’s stubble on his skin made him shiver. He was hot, too hot, and dizzy from shots, pink as his wings—no, not pink, _rose-gold_. That’s what they said when he’d argued in shock. Redheads were not supposed to wear pink. That’s all he knew about color. But this wasn’t pink, it was rose-gold, and somehow that mattered enough to shut him up while he’d been stripped and dressed. A scrap of shining, frothy rose-gold had been placed at his hips, hands lingering, he realized again. An invitation he hadn’t noticed until he’d seen what he’d really wanted. 

From the point of view of one of those lights, or whoever was behind them, Will and Derek were two broad bodies squeezed onto a costume throne, breathing hard and aching but so very fucking still. They’d barely touched, all things considered. Will’s thigh muscles were tight, straining to keep him up, off Nursey’s dick, although he couldn’t even remember why. 

Except yes, then he could, when Nursey groaned against his skin, “Fuck. Fuck. Please.” 

Whatever was between them now, the same friendship as before, but better, hopefully, please, fuck, let it be better, it wasn’t Nurse begging for Will. That wasn’t even something to dream about until Will’s vision was swimming and lights pinged off every sparkle on his shoulders and through that haze he’d seen Nursey—Derek—grinning at someone and leaning in toward them in the way that meant he was interested. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Or, Ford hadn’t said he would be. He wasn’t supposed to see Will in glitter of some made-up, pretentious color. He was going to laugh, or chirp and wonder what Dex was doing dressed like this. All the warmth from those helping hands had faded from Will’s skin and then those green eyes had fixed on him and widened. 

Will had turned to down another shot of pink something—potion?—he couldn’t remember the night’s theme now, but Nursey was a prince, was _always_ a prince, with a crown tilted crookedly over his curls and a fucking cloak on his strong shoulders, and he’d grinned at Will and leaned in as if he had the right to sweep pastel pink sugar from Will’s lip with his thumb. 

He had the right. He’d always had it, even if Will would have bitten his hand off for it, once upon a time. Because it wasn’t believable. Not in the dorms or the library or the Haus, where Derek was Nurse and Will was Dex and not a soft, shuddering fairy, half-melted across Derek’s lap in front of who knew how many people. 

Wanting it didn’t make it real. That was real life. Whatever they had built for themselves—teasing and truces and genuine fights and roommates and nights spent doing anything but pining—it wasn’t this. It was incredible for Derek to be his friend. Just looking at him with others was a reminder of the distance that should be between them. 

Of course Will knew, _knew_ , it wasn’t always like that for Nursey. That the confidence could disappear in a second with the right word—wrong word, usually from Will. But Will tried, more and more, and it was easier when he was high on sugar and rum and spreading sparkles across Nursey’s skin. 

“Beautiful.” It wasn’t enough. His voice stayed a whisper, or seemed that way with the music loud and both of them panting. “Beautiful.” 

“Yeah,” Nursey agreed, husky. “You are.” 

That could not be true. And maybe that was ultimately what kept Will back, there, at the Haus. Not their history. Not his eventual awkward coming out. Not every single fear of fucking up. 

He had to stop. He’d never meant this to happen, although they hadn’t even kissed. Nurse wasn’t going to be happy when he realized this was Will. 

Will closed his eyes, then gasped at the press of Nursey’s teeth and the following series of slow kisses over the stinging skin. Gentle, because Nurse was like that. 

He wouldn’t be. 

Will shook his head, trying to clear it, and Nursey pulled back. Will could feel him staring in concern. He pet a soft circle over Will’s spine and then slid his to Will’s hips at last, resting his thumbs at Will’s v-line, respectfully above the swatch of fabric covering Will’s half-hard cock. 

“What’s wrong?” Nursey’s low, worried voice made him flush. He was soft, how he’d be with anyone else. Even with Will, sometimes, when Will fought to let him and not snap back out of habit or self-preservation or fear of what would happen if he let Nursey treat him this way. If he responded the same, or at least as best as he could. 

“Nurse.” Dex almost choked on the name and then wanted to hide his face in Nursey’s shoulder. But of course, his face was already hidden. That was the problem. He had to be Dex again, and turned his head to the side, turned his face up to the lights before reaching up to pull the ribbons to take off the mask. 

His lips felt sticky and too sweet. He wanted to rub them clean on his hand but at the silence, at big, warm hands still splayed at his hips, he finally looked over. 

“What’s wrong?” Nursey asked again, a dazed look in his eyes. He was grinning, perfect, happy, but it was starting to fade, edge into something tight and worried. 

“It’s me.” Will almost made it a question, and frowned slightly. 

“Uh, duh?” Nursey blinked slowly several times, then gave him a wide, tipsy smile. 

Will swayed a little to the familiar soft, pretty, ache of the music. He felt like the same song been playing forever though he’d never heard it before. He put his hands carefully on Nursey’s shoulders. “You knew it was me?” 

“Was I not supposed to?” Nursey wondered, startled, but then flashed an infuriating grin, his fake calm that somehow _was_ calming to Will, but only under the surface where he didn’t like to let people see. Maybe Nursey did anyway. Sometimes. He had rose-gold on his lips. “I’d know you anywhere,” he said, very, very softly, and then went still and looked away from Will for the first time since Will had found him here. Nursey stuttered. “It’s… in the Haus you’re red, you know? Red is go and stop—I don’t know anymore, which one it is. But pink… pink is different. You let me.” Nursey turned back to him with sudden realization. “You led me here.”

Will had done just that. Dex wouldn’t but Will had. Handed Prince Derek a shot and watched him swallow and taken his hand to lead him right here. 

He wondered vaguely if he was red again. If it was stop or if it was go. He knew which one he wanted it to be. 

He thought he knew what Nursey wanted it to be too. 

“It’s rose-gold,” he corrected Nursey, stupidly, voice low. 

Nursey’s grin warmed and softened and shimmered under the spinning lights. 

“Beautiful,” Will said again, and maybe, maybe it was the right word this time. Or maybe it was that he got to whisper it, gently, while half-melted in Nursey’s lap, and lean in, as if he had the right to wipe glitter off Nursey’s lip.


End file.
